Punishment
by Musegaarid
Summary: The time has come for Crowley and Aziraphale to be punished for their actions in Tadfield. Warnings: slash, character death, language. Angsty, but with a happy ending.


**Disclaimer:** Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett own Crowley and Aziraphale. Bill Joel owns _Lullaby (Goodnight, My Angel)_. Nobody owns God, despite what else you might hear...

It had been three months since the events at Lower Tadfield and Crowley was having an excellent morning. An "unexplained" power blackout at Victoria station had snarled the Underground traffic for hours and due to the failure of some critical negotiations, it looked as though the post office strike would continue for another couple of weeks. Feeling like he deserved a congratulatory luncheon, Crowley turned his steps towards Soho to invite the angel to the Ritz.

As he approached the bookstore, he caught the familiar feeling of Aziraphale's presence, but what stopped him in his tracks was the feeling of two other supernatural beings nearby. He was instantly worried. After a few months of no contact with Heaven or Hell, they had begun to relax slightly, falling back into their regular patterns of wiling and thwarting, and having celestial representatives here, now, did not bode well. Figuring that Aziraphale would get into trouble if they realized he was here, he had just resolved to move to somewhere close by and wait them out, when the sense that they were there suddenly disappeared.

Crowley inched hesitantly towards the door, stretching out with all of his powers to detect any other divine beings that may be around. Not detecting anyone other than Aziraphale, he pushed open the door.

"Angel?"

Aziraphale wasn't at the counter or anywhere in sight of the main shelves. Thinking that the angel was likely to have gone into the back room to fix himself a calming cup of tea after the visit, Crowley pushed open the swinging door.

"Angel, I know you're here, I… oh my god!"

Lying face down in the middle of the floor in an ever spreading pool of his own blood, was Aziraphale. One of his wings had been completely severed and was lying discarded across the room. The other was punched full of holes the size of tennis balls. His right leg had been twisted around until it snapped and the shattered bone stuck out of his thigh. His face was bloody and heavily bruised.

Crowley didn't pick up on these details immediately. His attention was first caught by the letters which had been written in blood on the wall above Aziraphale's head.

"PUNISHMEN…"

The end of the N trailed down the wall, so Crowley thought that whoever did this must have picked up on his presence after all and left hurriedly. Then he shook himself. _Not important!_ He sank to his knees at Aziraphale's side, not caring that his trousers would be ruined, and touched the angel's arm gently.

"Aziraphale?"

He still appeared to be breathing for what that was worth, but Crowley couldn't understand why he was struggling to stay in his broken body. Crowley leaned closer to whisper into his upturned ear.

"Angel? It's okay. Let yourself be discorporated. You can get a new body and be back in a couple of months. I'll take care of things while you're gone."

Aziraphale coughed. It was the first movement of any kind that he'd made while Crowley had been there. Then he took a breath and gurgled out something that sounded like "Can't."

Behind his sunglasses, Crowley's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean you can't?"

In response, Aziraphale moved his left arm slightly. Crowley looked at it. The angel was wearing a bronze bracelet that he'd never seen before. He looked more carefully and read the ancient Hebrew words inscribed on the surface, _"If a man vow a vow unto the Lord, or swear an oath to bind his soul with a bond; he shall not break his word, he shall do according to all that proceedeth out of his mouth."_

Shocked, Crowley sagged onto his heels and all his breath was forced out of him. The bracelet was a soulbind. It trapped Aziraphale's angelic essence in his mortal body, so that if his body died, he would disappear forever.

'No, no! This can't be happening…,' thought Crowley, frantically. 'Those fucking bastards!'

He scrabbled at the bracelet, although he knew he couldn't remove it. Clamping down on his rising panic, he tried to think clearly. If he couldn't remove the bracelet now, he'd have to heal Aziraphale's body until they could get it removed somehow.

As carefully as possible, he rolled Aziraphale onto his back and pulled the angel's head into his lap. Aziraphale cried out weakly, but Crowley needed to know what he was up against. Though it didn't seem possible, the wounds were even worse from the front. There were many deep, cauterized stab wounds in the angel's chest and abdomen, which clearly had been caused by a flaming weapon. One stab in particular had actually gone all the way through his body. Crowley's shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew there was no way he could heal this much damage in the time that Aziraphale had left, so he applied his powers to pain relief instead. It was the best he could do.

After a minute, Aziraphale opened his eyes. They appeared dull in color, but as he stared up at Crowley, his gaze was more intense than ever before.

"I have…no regrets," he whispered harshly. "Except for leaving you. Will you…miss me?"

The demon was dumbstruck.

"I…but…you…"

Then Crowley remembered something.

He cleared his throat, which was threatening to close up entirely, and, in a soft, tenor voice that was pleasant but not exceptional, began to sing.

"_Good night, my angel, time to close your eyes, and save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me. I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promise I would never leave you, and you should always know, wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away."_

Aziraphale's eyes filled with tears as Crowley continued, combing his fingers lightly through the thick, wavy hair.

"_Good night, my angel, now it's time to sleep, and still so many things I want to say. Remember all the songs you sang for me, when we went sailing on an emerald bay. And like a boat out on the ocean, I'm rocking you to sleep. The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart, you'll always be a part of me."_

The angel closed his eyes.

"_Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on. They never die, that's how you and I will be."_

"Crowley…," breathed Aziraphale. And then he was gone.

Moving like he was under water, Crowley slowly gathered up the angel's battered, blonde head and began to weep bitterly. In all his long existence, he had never cried before, not even at his own Fall, but now he felt that if he didn't, he'd be crushed beneath the weight of his own heart.

For all he knew, it could have taken ten minutes or ten hours until the first desperate outpouring had calmed into the occasional gasping sob. Crowley was still clutching the ever-cooling angel in his arms and wondering what he could possibly do now, when he suddenly knew he was no longer alone. A golden light filled the room and Crowley narrowed his eyes against it. He knew who it was.

"Why are You here?" demanded Crowley, harshly. "Come to gloat, have You?"

The Presence didn't speak, but Crowley knew the answer. 'I am here because you called me.'

"I did no such thing!"

'Indeed you did. When you entered this room to find your friend, you called my name.'

If Crowley had had anything to glare at, he would have. Instead he stared at the floor, trying to remember.

"That's just one of those things that people always say," he began angrily, but was interrupted.

'You never have before. So, I have come. I do not forsake my children, Alteriel.'

"Don't call me that! My name is Crowley." He took a great, ragged breath and tightened his arms around Aziraphale, "And You have forsaken both of us."

The light dimmed sadly and came to rest near the body on the floor.

"Why did You do it?" screamed Crowley. "He only ever wanted to do the good thing, the right thing, for You. He didn't deserve this." The tears were threatening to return.

'I did not order this.'

Crowley laughed humorlessly. "Right. You want to play it like that? I'm not stupid, you know. These wounds were caused by flaming swords and your angelic lackeys wrote 'Punishment' above his head. Hard to misinterpret that. He was being punished for helping to prevent the Apocalypse."

'No. You were.'

He wasn't sure he could take much more of this.

"WHAT?"

The light expanded and contracted briefly. It began to look a little spikier around the edges.

'Lucifer discovered the one punishment for your actions that would truly cause you pain. He sent demons here to bind and kill Aziraphael, in order to separate him from you forever.'

Crowley crumpled. Not only was Aziraphale gone, but it was entirely his fault. He thought he'd been so good at hiding his feelings…

Not even the physical presence of his Creator was enough to ease the pain. Desperately trying to relieve some of what he was feeling, he lashed out again.

"Well You're so high and almighty. Can't you do something about this? Can't you bring him back?"

'I can.'

Shocked, Crowley blinked and looked ready to speak, but was stopped.

'…but it would require a major sacrifice on your part.'

"Why?"

The not-voice took a moment to reply.

'Lucifer has deemed it necessary to punish you for your part in the recent events. If I return Aziraphael to life, you will not have been punished and Lucifer will come after you both again. You must have some kind of equal punishment to prevent that. I am offering you the chance to choose your penalty. It is more than most people receive.'

Crowley laid the angel down gently and jumped to his feet. "What do You want? My immortality? My powers? My existence? Take it. Whatever You need. Just bring him back, You bastard!"

'Your wings.'

The only response was the sound of tearing fabric as Crowley's wings burst through the back of his jacket. He left them white. There was no point in trying to disguise them.

'You are sure? You do not wish to consider the consequences?'

"Fuck the consequences. Do it now, damn You!"

The light didn't hesitate. It passed behind Crowley and his wings were gone. There was no pain, nothing to show, just one second they were there and the next, gone. Then, the light dove into Aziraphale's arm and the bracelet shattered into thousands of tiny bronze splinters. Crowley watched the golden aura grow and the angel began to hover in the center of the room. One tendril of light snaked out, grabbed Aziraphale's discarded wing, and returned it to its rightful place. Another tendril wrapped around his leg, and healed the bone and torn flesh. Others were visibly filling the myriad cuts and punctures. Everywhere, light was stitching together the parts of his mortal body and rejoining the pieces of his soul.

Awed beyond belief, Crowley stood motionless and silent. He had never actually seen Him work before, having been a lesser angel while he was in Heaven and one of the last created besides, but it would take a much harder heart than his to not be overwhelmed at the sight. His demonic pride would be forever grateful that he managed somehow not to fall to his knees at that moment.

Soon it was over and Aziraphale, whole and well drifted back down to the floor. The gold light emerged from the angel's body and pulsed in front of the captivated demon.

'I do not forsake my children, Crowley.'

There was a feeling of lips upon his forehead and the Presence was gone.

After a few seconds, Aziraphale stirred. Crowley did collapse then, unable to remain standing, and looked deeply into the fluttering blue eyes. Aziraphale stared at his left wrist, disbelievingly, before reaching up to touch Crowley's cheek and pull off his sunglasses. Crowley's yellow eyes were red-rimmed and a few new tears were now following the tracks made by the earlier ones.

Just as he was about to speak words of comfort, Aziraphale's attention was caught by a golden glow coming from the center of Crowley's forehead. He reached up again to touch the pure divinity that lingered there.

"My dear…?"

Crowley pulled himself together. "Later, angel. Let's get you cleaned up first."

He helped Aziraphale get up off of the sticky floor, wrapped one arm around the angel's waist, and led him out the door.


End file.
